School of Discontent
by Lord Kelvin
Summary: The setting: a prison. The staff: executioners. The result: chaos under control in a friendly school establishment. Discontinued. For historic reference only.
1. Sisyphean Labors

**ANNOUNCEMENT: This story is being edited. **It is sad the site does not have the option of making a fiction temporarily unavailable to readers.

Written to project an image of the socially inept Sonic crew in an office drone's environment as well as to distort the stereotype of a competent teacher. Vocabulary practice with metaphors.

Disclaimer: this story contains characters and locations that to not belong to the uploading writer. They are copyright SEGA. The story is copyright Lord Kelvin.

**School of Discontent**

Chapter 1: Sisyphean Labors

It was a rainy night in a man's life. Restless, he sunk into the light in his own shadow, hoping to find an idea, the advisor.

Everything was begun by a thought in the man's living. Calculation, scheming, logic and brainpower were his closest and only companions. Along with disaster and failure that lured him into their clutches with cake.

They lied to him, so the man would scrutinize every detail, encompass all thinkable odds. Why? To shatter his plan at the very core with a mere drop of surprise. Again and again the process repeated itself: perfection, then taint followed by severance. A foolish IQ made him sink deeper after every fiasco.

It was his fault, he thought.

Sisyphean labors were becoming longer and more complex, but also futile as time moved forward. It was the obvious way out for an irrational genius, out into the minefield with no sense of direction. Any idea can be a minesweeper, once.

Fate loved to play the same practical joke on him. The man could picture her motherly eyes with a dastardly grin below. The situation was too serious to be humorous for him: self-esteem was missing, bravery retreated and genius betrayed him, leaving the being alone in the form of a spectacular idiot.

The human looked around to see nothing but fake perfection and a reminder left by success.

"I'm allergic to you," it said.

Circumstances had crossed the line. Being a mockery for inferiors, the theme song during comedy hours was more than he could take.

Revenge approached him with an idea to sell. Sanity was the price mentioned. Sweet was the illusion. After all, he could imagine himself as victor. The dream world was not far from becoming reality. The man gulped, anticipating the future gift with a smile on his face, an oblivious smile of a child ready to be sacrificed to the vicious gods. The price seemed reasonable.

He reached out to sign Asmodai's self-destruction pact without reading it. The mirage appeared too real to be a forgery. Reality was caught off guard.

Then, to the demon's misfortune, sanity let out a desperate cry. Its roots lied deep in the man's soul, too deep to be ignored even in the state of a self-absorbed desperate blob. His natural state.

Yes, he would drop the act, the careful scheming and his empire for something..._more_ ingenious!

"Time for a change," the man told an inanimate object with a devious grin forming on his face.

* * *

Life is expensive. It's treasured and improved. Usually in a system a country's government presents to the citizens. It is a prison, as it taught the ones entering a painful lesson. It is a hospital, as it housed many sicknesses, physical and psychical. It is an amusement park for the thrill and simple fun it brought the participants.

However, _it_ was none of these institutions. The name given was much more inhumane and shocking, but hiding its ingredients behind a forged friendship barrier at the same time. The slaughterhouse was codenamed a school.

The presence of the main executioner, the principal, was turning such a building into a little kingdom. However, the formal evolution made a slight adjustment to the machine to prevent it from leaving grounds under control. A silent assassin was hired to control the regents' actions and dispose of them if needed.

The assassin was always present at the beginning of each year, which took place during a meeting in August.

One of the assassins ("O'Really" was the name his briefcase carried on a silver plate), after finishing the condolences with yet another victim, was going to give the symbols of enlightened despotism: the keys to the principal's office to a successor, Shadow the Hedgehog.

O'Really's hobby was leaving people without jobs. Success was always in his pockets, on his bald head, in his palm and leather briefcase. The male's silhouette radiated victory from all one hundred fifty kilos and one point seven meters it had. The master of the trade had his roots far in the first grade of elementary school, where his very first executioner was dismissed due to the boy's actions.

However, Shadow was not the case. A hero by a political scandal and the favorite of Station Square's mayor was a smooth impenetrable wall in a matter of sneaky questions. The attacker's weapons were useless. Shadow's credentials were very effective. He was but an innocent soul trying to serve the community by providing it a good future in order to wipe out the naughty crimes of his angst-filled past from the public's heads.

A heated debate lasted for more than an hour in a small pink room. There was a pink table with a stool behind it, on which O'Really's person was doing its best in sitting with minor continuous fidgets. He was very close to a large window with horizontal blinds, letting a poor amount of light inside the room, partially subtracted by the man's body. Shadow, resting on a more comfortable chair fronted by the office table, was feeling more relaxed in the situation, as the silence extending for over ten minutes was giving him a moment to gather thoughts for a response to anything the examiner could say.

Lamps fixed into the ceiling and a fan on the table, cooling the piping-hot situation, made the only sounds in the room.

The tension was unbearable. Two icy glares collided, creating a temporary ceiling zero between them. Time seemed to slow down in that dark void of extreme temperature. Such unbearable conditions could not last long, though. There had to be only one slaughterer left.

Gritting teeth, O'Really did his best to climb that hedgehog of a wall, but silence, a deceitful fiend, was behind enemy lines, unable, if not lazy, to give a helping hand for the fat man.

"The position is yours. See you next year!" O'Really exclaimed to Shadow's surprise and rushed out of the office.

The hedgehog was stunned to see a professional admit defeat so easily. Shadow felt superior, feeding his hungry ego in satisfaction. Little did he know, that he should have credited not his skill or physique for the victory. O'Really's chair was just too uncomfortable for him to last!

Or until the first infraction, thought the school inspector upon leaving the building.

Shadow thought it was going to be an easy day, free of senseless commotion and annoyance. His intuition was right for over thirty minutes, an extraordinary accomplishment in the creature's pitiful life.

A white female bat wearing mind-bending clothes 'ideal for spying' entered the office without knocking properly. Thus, magnificently violating the etiquette.

The appointed headmaster was not surprised, neither was he impressed. His face performed a wild grimace, which could only be compared to the expression of a ten-year-old boy chewing a large unpeeled raw lemon.

"Rouge, what brings you here?" Shadow spoke in a formal manner, hoping it would make the abomination leave.

The fact that he was sitting on a chair with the ability to spin made him able to turn around and look into the intervener's eyes. He believed that it would be the worst option, though, so the back treatment was Rouge's prescription.

To Shadow's discontent, she was not intimidated by him.

Rouge walked up to the chief casually, "I've heard you got a job here a few minutes ago," she acknowledged and made a pause, getting ready to verbally stab the knife deeper. "The government gave me…some time off and I thought that you were nice enough to give me a position of sorts," she explained, standing near the chair.

"What can you do…besides the obvious?" Shadow asked, losing the comfort he had a few minutes ago, slouching a bit to get farther from her protruding obviouses.

"I can type pretty fast, I have a good memory, I am a good spokeswoman…" Rouge said, not intending to stop pointing out her perks.

Shadow sighed dramatically. The never-ending skill story was starting to irritate his nerve cells. He thought that such a reaction would end the tirade, but serious measures were needed.

"Okay, you can stop now! What kind of a job do you want?"

No matter how witty he was, he still needed a feminine spirit around, much like Sonic, the sly female thought.

The hedgehog saved her mouth before it could open and let the gruesome air violate it.

"Because I was thinking of making you my secretary, but…" the hedgehog thought aloud without a previously formulated plan.

It was curtain time for freedom and privacy. The parliament had arrived.

"It suits me just fine," she responded until Shadow could try to reason her out of it.

And I thought social situations were easy, he thought, starting to unravel in the chair now that Rouge's personal space was some more inches away.

A few more moments of company and Rouge's distance grew up to a tolerable state. Shadow was physically alone at last. Persuaded into being bounced and kicked like a soccer ball, he felt like a hungry unarmed infant put against ravenous lions.

The feeling was also a defensive reaction to Amy's arrival.

No, not her! Shadow exclaimed in his mind.

Amy's colors unstoppably shone in the room like a bright blinding black hole, complemented by her cheerful smile and girlish walk-rate. The mistress had arrived and Shadow knew it well.

The female hedgehog had a walkie-talkie in her hand as an additional pressure technique. She didn't know it meant pressure. In her cutesy language, it was just another way to motivate people to be friendlier. After all, if it's not the smile, calling the proper people in the right place would surely change someone's attitude.

With an abusively cheerful face expression, she greeted the headmaster, who was dreaming about the positive sides of being a single-cell organism at that moment. It was a desperate move to save his intelligence or its remnants, at least, from the pink swarm of brain-devouring locusts.

Meanwhile, the monstrous incarnation of attitude approached Shadow, until he could feel everything that his soul resembled sucked into the joyful empty hole. He could see her carbon dioxide spread in the room, slowly turning the air into deadly poison, intending to victimize and murder him. Shadow's heart beat rate was getting faster. The male's weakened mind could not push the nightmare away.

It became obvious: she was still there...breathing, violating him.

The ageless entity swallowed all decency and self-respect he had like a pill and let it dissolve in stomach acid. Then, he was able to record her words in his brain and reply to them on the level. Eventually, he couldn't recall what she said.

"Got it?" she asked, unaware that Shadow was not even starting to get anything.

"Yes," he replied as softly as his ego allowed.

"Thanks! So make sure Sonic is here tomorrow morning!" she exclaimed, leaving Shadow's eyes quivering in resonance.

To the gloomy party's luck, her walkie-talkie started buzzing. It was a sign for her to leave the throne room to give Shadow some privacy with the gadget. Timidly, the dark hedgehog pushed a round button on the metal box with a mounted antenna. A siren that erupted out of the speaker scratched Shadow's eardrums. It was the climax, a false alarm in Shadow's terms.

"Did my sweet little pumpkin explain everything?" came out from the speaker in a mangled robotic tone.

"I have no idea," the hedgehog replied, inspecting the faulty device.

"That's what I thought. After breaking _through_ a bank and _seven_ surrounding buildings in an attempt to catch a few robbers, Sonic's debt to society grew to two very large monetary units. You may be his last chance," the voice from the box explained, slightly annoying the listener.

"I'd rather him somewhere underwater…" Shadow thought aloud, looking for the machine's production date and place of origin.

"Remember, we made a deal and the government is always right!" reminded the loud apparatus.

"Somehow, I-"

"You don't know that G.U.N will be checking on you soon! That's right! With my help and your heroism towards Sonic, secret services will never again seal you in a plastic bag for another fifty years!" the foul machine exclaimed, rudely interrupting Shadow.

Finally, Shadow's search for knowledge ended with a glorious frown and a thought of telling the dignitary to advance his technological level to twenty first century, "Mayor…" he had begun before the machine decided to cherish his words with a retro smoke screen and a three volt discharge. "Have a nice day!" was all Shadow's ultimate state could come up with after seeing the colossal annoyance that ancient technology caused.

Stunned due to a disturbing battle with a metaphorical Smokey the Bear and being ridiculed by a female's questioning gaze, he stood there, not leaving a moment of thought behind like always.

I wonder what's worse, being eaten by two minor annoyances or facing a really big one?

His ears started twitching. Alarmed by the phenomenon, precision looked around suspiciously expecting to find a hidden intruder. Shadow was unable to tell a difference between paranoia and intuition, which left him with but a penny of a choice.

"I know you're here! Show yourself!" he ordered the air, despite the fact that such a deed could have made him look silly beyond belief.

"Heh, all right," the echo responded to the scholar's discontent, proving that sanity does not run away when abused in Shadow's case.

A purple male chameleon wearing an outstanding amount of wardrobe elements, which made a total of gloves and shoes, appeared before Shadow. The figure was alien to him at first sight, but fail-safe memories resurrected the past.

"What do I owe you?" the tormented hedge asked.

Shadow was not ready for being spiritually thrown into a tub filled with lemon juice again. Therefore, by all means he tried to prevent such an outcome. Luckily, bad luck fell out of commission.

"Nothing. A few people were here earlier. I thought you'd need some help," the chameleon stated.

A painkiller would not have soothed as much as those words, but the information was not yet sufficient.

"I'm listening."

Shadow was in his natural element then. A good portion of evil was what he needed to serve his guest. He was fortunate to find a hungry victim, pawn-to-be.

Settling plans and paperwork didn't take long with the calm and disciplined ninja. For once, Shadow had a trustworthy ally, a 'little brother'. Perhaps, the hedgehog was loaded with treaties and agreements, the weight of which would have easily crushed an average person, nobody forbade him to share the weight.

The amusing daydream ended just as it started, quickly, with Espio's departure. Again, the cold-hearted hedgehog was left alone, defenseless in the warm-colored room, haunted by the happiness industry, forcing people to smile, hidden in every square inch of paint. However, shuddering physically was a luxury Shadow couldn't even rent.

It would be disturbing to work in such accommodations, Shadow thought, ignoring fear and a crawling suicidal urge.

Two more things didn't let him calm down: a filing cabinet and a clock on the wall that was one hour behind. It appeared to be a dilemma of time against responsibility. Shadow wanted to take the first and leave the latter, to which, unfortunately, he was chained. It was possible for him to choose both, but soiling pleasure with smelly dissatisfaction was the worst combination his logic brought up. Should he pick the clock or the cabinet? Unable to decide, he used the trusty eeny, meeny, miny, moe to choose which to solve first.**  
**

Let's get employment over with, he thought.

A pointy-shaped scarlet-ink-filled weapon appeared in his right hand. Shadow decided to make a mass trial of very private proportions. It was supposed to be a surprise for the doomed defendants. Heads were going to roll in that kingdom. Besides, he just liked crossing people out people out of existence with a swipe of a pen.

Pulled out in alphabetic order, the innocent-looking files were a gold mine for cackle-enducing excuse lists and otherwise delicious private date. Word by word, sentence by sentence, Shadow's stroll through people's lives was slowly reaching the finish with three casualties and counting.

The clock couldn't stop him from hurting others. It couldn't even stop itself, even if it was running an hour late.

Chemistry, Mathematics, Physics, History, Literature, Gymnastics and Technological Education had their people brutally removed by the mighty principal's pen. Their names were torn out of the school's documents, just like their salary was torn out of their hands.

With the formalities done, Shadow could finally escape from the rosy torture chamber.

As he left, everything he experienced in it was put aside. Sonic's rival didn't care. He was the new executioner king. Yes, the kingdom was pink, but not for long!

Fortunately, the hedgehog didn't know what practical jokes fate had prepared for him by that time. He was safe from depression and paranoia, but, unluckily, not from a bundle of circumstances flying his way.


	2. Annoyance Wanted

Chapter 2: Annoyance Wanted

He was using the sidewalk just like an average schnook. Feet pushed themselves off the ground in a cyclical motion, always ready to return to their primary position a certain number of inches away. Well calculated, but casual. Formality and her comrades, being hidden back in the "knowledge dissection chamber", had no chance of invading this personal space of earthly heaven.

The two members were continuously sharing the hedgehog's weight, a hundred percent for each was given every half a second, moving his gravity center from left to right. Never had his body flown into a jump sequence at the maintained rate. There had always been support, no matter how feeble or muscular. With his feet safely lodged as a compound for a pair of black leather shoes without laces, there was no fear of losing balance.

Balance had always been the ultimate importance, while grinding along life's flawless iron rails. The rails that were chipping easily due rust, grazing on the tasty element, spreading like plague, for the original faker, a carbon copy and modified imitation in question.

Surroundings in the form of a paved road with a sidewalk on each side, one of which, on the right side, being centered by Shadow's vision. Two large concrete buildings, dull gray skyscrapers, slapped into the ground in non-sinking-ship position, concealed the flourishing sunset using a mixture of shade, solid matter and paradox. Shadow's view of the horizon was limited to a few high trees towering near a road junction ahead.

Units of flora could only shake their leaves and branches, stiffened by age, in order to please wind's sick fantasies. Naturally, they were also helplessly, obliviously waiting for the barbaric log poachers armed with fossil-fuel-powered saws.

In the meantime, right above the indifferently glimmering semaphores at the junction, the very same wind was doing its best in attracting people's eyes to the short-tempered monuments, lovely but dangerous velvet blankets, clouds. It dragged them towards the dying Sun to let the pushover - night reign supreme for another few tired hours. Slowly damp servants of condensation roamed towards the deforming disk without a cause or sane reason. Thus, making an amusing scene reminding old folk stories with a pack of wolves chasing a single sheep. Lacking skill at pursuit or any division of actual activity for that matter, they had no chance in forms that honest measurement stood for. Chance was not even part in their incongruous equation.

The "dying sheep" was simply teasing its starving "chasers". It retreated to safety in the unoccupied field belonging to the eternal firmament.

Visualizations could have fooled the earth-dwelling creatures at the moment, making it seem that their gleeful guardian was masochistically mutilating itself by stretching intensely as it moved down. It was a cruel reminder: survival equaled Machiavelism like no other natural factor, where only the strongest and most ominous could force the top to themselves.

Shadow could not care for the color ballet act above his never radiant, menacing quills. His mind was married to an insane idea: finding a resting place beyond the realms of afterlife. Such an occupation disturbed his neatly formatted resources, leaving only machine-like reflexes, which were peculiarly sufficient in bribing the curious eyes. A crowd never stood a chance against that brainless apparatus.

Fortunately for the crowd, even an emotionless lump of flesh without a soul had a perfectly stingy weakness.

Luck was having a time off at that hour, as the weakness was thrust to zoom towards him. Making loops, jumping upwards, going down in a drizzle of molecules and picking up lazy dust particles from their temporary resting places it was. A dangerous foe, a ferocious fiend like no other, was randomly placing itself in Shadow's path of misfortune. Stealthy and quick, mighty but weak, nobody could deny it any of those personal traits. Without an ego to match its brain size, nature's most wicked creation would not have been such a delectable example of innocent evil.

Samael found himself a neat death load package and deliverer in one, a buzzing annoyance with a vicious appetite, a fly.

The buggy scalawag had no conscious intentions of impacting with a huge mountain of unprocessed meat. Yet, something was bringing it closer. Shadow's shimmering stature was pulling the poor bacteria factory towards the tastiest region of tissue, his unguarded eyeball. There was a mysterious sheen in his large ocular organs that hypnotized such a poor excuse for an illiterate idiot. So the insect flew closer and closer, obeying the instincts tingling its fragile body to feel the giant's exquisite physique.

The fly put the things desired into action. It was a pathetic moment in the natural selection epic. Death selected the fly, and the fly, with the free will that it had, seconded it by placing a lethal kiss on the surface of Shadow's physical vision contraption. Turbulence, experienced due to the slightest breeze coming from Mr. Windy Mischief himself, prevented the ultimate eyelid from closing.

The hedgehog had only seen a dark blot enter his sight range for a split second before reluctantly launching his reflexes into action. The trap had sprung: Shadow's eyelid shielded his sensitive side from the upcoming attack, capturing more organic matter than usual.

Excruciating pain put the rodent into sheer agony. Each time the ill-fated executioner blinked violently, the insect brushed its paralyzed, tear-covered body against the eye's sensitive surface, thus, sending electrical surges into the hedgehog's brain. The physiological process that Shadow started loathing at the very moment was sending him into a static frenzy. Artificial life hissed attempting to gather air in his lungs, while a hand was raised for the sole purpose of literally "rubbing it in". Thus, it was making the situation worse with every stroke.

There were little evidence approving his disgruntled state on the outside, though, as it would have seemed to be an act of simple eye scratching. Any random passerby or schedule victim would have merely ignored the hell broken loose so close.

As always, there were people with more background than a random passerby. In fact, the personification of disaster was hovering above the exact tormented mammal at that very time. Like a furtive spy, it watched every moment of Shadow's unhappiness, responding to it, unbeknownst to the "insect's best fiend", with a wide grin embodying egoism, self-pity, anger and pure delight. Nothing than another's pain had ever brought such a reaction.

Vultures would not have lasted in the air, as nobody could afford risking losing their gracefully dying prey. It was but a matter of banal seconds till a spherical shape would have plunged down onto the principal's troubles, crushing him under its weight.

It was none other than the infamous doctor Ivo Robotnik, self-proclaimed genius and master at silly machinery design. Mother Nature had been extremely generous on flaws the day that man look-alike was born.

Shadow groaned silently, partially seeing the scientist's permanent easy chair, the hovering Egg-O-Matic. The man's most perfect creation, always suitable for a quick aerial retreat, soon stopped near the insectivore, an inch above the road's surface.

A brief moment of silence flew between them. The fat red-suited maniac began speaking upon salvaging a sufficient amount of air to let his not-too-slim voice cords function.

"Shadow! You don't know how glad I am to see you!" Eggman roared happily, obliviously irritating the hedgehog's eardrums and the hedgehog in general.

Shadow hissed painfully again, hoping that it got past the egg-shaped monster unnoticed, "I beg to differ," he replied with the damaged left eye closed to hide the swelling.

Robotnik grinned, "I am well aware of your current situation and position," he continued, forcing beads of sweat out of the listener's pores.

"I'm sure you are. Get to the point!" Shadow spat back with more negativity than he had wanted.

"I know that you've been acquired for a very _pleasant_ job in a _very_ sensible establishment," the smart-alecky moustache lover responded, adding kerosene to the fire with his tone.

Shadow's visualization was barely stopping itself from twitching, because the hand had been previously removed for formality sake. The other lid had closed his right eyeball in order to make an atmosphere suiting the evil doctor less. Both eyes closed, an honest side show.

"I'm done talking business for today… Come back later… Next year, if you can," Shadow offered with politeness screaming in anguish.

"But I insist. A conversation shouldn't be much trouble for a _persona_ with your professionalism."

The talks might not have lasted long due to an automobile that had been approaching the hardly flying road hog. A large green car stopped a distance behind the Egg-O-Matic and started signaling. It was a cue for Robotnik to leave, but fate was not in his "to obey" list that day. Pushing a button on his control panel, Eggman's humongous thumb sprung a missile out of his craft's rear. The unfriendly vehicle-annoyance retreated immediately, driving backwards, against the incoming traffic. There was a car siren's wail, a scream, a crash, another scream, and an explosion. The latter sound was caused by a menacing projectile, a warhead that had impacted with a front-view window, too static to move out of the way.

Meanwhile, the devious doctor was forced to get "down and dirty", for his highly irritable companion seemed to be more than cocky at that hour. A regular person would have gotten itself lost in irony's den minutes ago, but the fiend was more than normal to be precise.

"Doctor, you are mistaken. Have a…good afternoon," said the hedgehog gracefully, and with the unhurt eye open, hiding the bruise perfectly from Robotnik's sight, marched forth, away from the robust genius.

It was time for magic, which did not exist in Eggman's vocabulary. Though, tricks, schemes and ridiculously complex plans were ready for deployment.

The chair levitated above the road along Shadow's path, copying his movement speed to get a hold of the arrogant acquaintance for a few more seconds.

Ivo introduced a deceiving monologue, "Mistaken? Me? The Ultimate Life Form cannot be _wrong_, but there are exceptionals in life," he said. "I know this is the situation," the follower added.

Shadow turned his eye to the man's side with disgrace, "Doctor, once again: have a-" the hedgehog barked.

Unfortunately, Eggman was ready for such a premature outcome. A mirror popped out of the genius' ship. Then, a robotic hand extended itself in front of Shadow quickly, presenting the glistering object to let artificial life supposedly admire its muzzle.

Shadow immediately woke up from his ignorant trance and intended to grab salvation. Of course, it was a part of the unfriendly party's plan. The mirror was moved out of the hedgehog's reach too soon for a grab.

"As I was saying: exceptions," Robotnik commented, a gluttonous grin on his face and the mirror in hand.

The executioner growled with discontent, "This is blackmail!"

"This is business," said the man whilst bouncing the shiny object in his hand amusingly. "You get to…look at yourself. I get what I want" was everything the round human could feed Shadow as the mirror reflected his sinister moustache and smile to the listener's irritation.

Shadow looked at the ground, begging Hell to swallow the calorie lover, "Tomorrow morning. My office..." he bellowed as tranquilly as he could. Seeing that there were no appropriate reactions, once again he looked at the man with one eye, "Give me the mirror!" the executed principal ordered.

Eggman chuckled. The sound pounded onto Shadow's perfect ears like a jackhammer.

It all ended soon. The fuzzy-faced primate-like creature smiled friendlily, hoping to hide the overwhelming urge to mock the misfortunate, and threw the object of argument.

"Catch!" the man exclaimed before passing the silvery matter into Shadow's hands in a clumsy way.

Buttons pushed, handles pulled, pilots sniggering, the machine departed. Only a cheerful phrase: "See you tomorrow!" echoed down from the sky as a painful reminder to complete agony.

Shadow sighed. With a mirror in hand he could finally remove the perfidious pest from the delicate sight organ zone. It did not appear to be a difficult task. A comparatively large black spot was easy to find on a white background. The only problem was to prevent further injuries successfully.

Less than three minutes had passed during the time, in which the mission was reaching completion status. Two misses, one painful, one maladroit and a direct hit followed by a celebration march out of the now-vacant eye.

Shadow's index finger connected with his thumb in an "OK" motion. Then, using a swift movement of the longer member, the lifeless insect was deported away. Signs of satisfaction started appearing on his face.

'No need for this anymore,' the rodent thought, looking at the used mirror.

Culprits abandoned the crime scene. Only silvered glass was left as a notice. Little shards, randomly residing on a hard and lifeless sidewalk, rested motionlessly, waiting to be picked up by a pitiable collector or the sanitation department.

It was a joyful moment for the wind, whose childish mischief made a foundation for a very unfair trade. Success and failure, both in a win-win, could only gaze at the participants ironically.

* * *

Rain blanketed the tired, desiccated earth in the school campus. Little droplets brought mixed response from city dwellers. There were joy, sadness, boredom, sleepiness and an irrational "Smile, tomorrow will be worse." 

The school building had nowhere to hide from the tiny water bombs. It did not need to either. White solid concrete walls defended its profile against outside activity. A well-designed bitumen-coated flat roof with a drainpipe labyrinth could effectively keep the ones below dry under any weather conditions typical in the region. Windows, although a problem with troublesome students' roughhousing, were funded by the children's caring parents. Thus, the "H"-shaped establishment looked practically new from the outside, ignoring the forty-year history.

Things looked well overall, formally, just like in any dictatorship. That is why reality had always managed to have fun in the diluted individuals' expense.

Wearing a brown suit and trousers, a checkered azure and black tie showing off in front of a white shirt, was Shadow. The ceremonial outfit, as well as a headache, compliments from a hurt eye, forced the manmade furry to feel uncomfortable. Not only was it too hot for him to be in such clothing, due to the fact that an umbrella kept him safe from discomforting weather conditions, but there was also an awkward feeling. Uncertain situations were the hedgehog's personal peeves. Even the permanent apathy was put aside to make room for steadying the nerves.

Administration pushed a glass door open and found itself in the school foyer (with two passageways: a staircase on the left and a corridor on the right). His thoughts moved in the staircase's direction.

Wide old stairs brought the anthromorph to the second story's tile-plated floor. The principal grumbled silently, partially swearing the negativity out. There was only one thing left to do.

Leather shoes could be heard, pressing their rubber soles against the floor's surface. The sound's epicenter was switching with every impact, indicating a straightforward path. It was impossible to get lost so close to the objective, his office. Consequently, the awkward feeling grew, making Shadow wish he could have just evaded the correct way.

Suddenly, the noise stopped. A clank, a push, a rapid movement and a cream-colored, golden-handle-equipped door opened wide.

The leader was about to enter, but he sensed a presence, a hostile one. He could smell the sweaty bad invading his personal space.

Shadow could not see the occupier. A large black chair behind _his_ desk was hiding the unwelcome visitor. The director had no choice except to slowly trot to _his_ designated spot. Four steps were taken and the hedgehog stopped. The image he was granted to see filled a serene, chemically unspoiled mind with shock and revolt. It was something unimaginable, impossible to accomplish, excessively terrifying, just plain evil.

The robust gravity's son spun the chair to be seen. That grin, the toothy smirk, scratched Shadow's eyes like a mad hyena once it fell upon him. The ridiculous failure shoveling around with the nickname "Eggman" could be seen in catastrophically full bloom.

"What a-" Shadow exclaimed, ready to burst his coarse vocabulary.

His nemesis had obviously expected that.

"Delightful surprise!" the man chuckled out, thus, stripping the rodent's composure away.

Tolerance was then hidden in the darkest cranny of his heart. There were no words to express the reaction to Ivo's arrogance. Shadow's eyes flashed with fury. Body – emotionless, like always.

"Do you know-" the boss started again, interrupted by Eggman's snicker.

"That I am sitting in _your_ seat? But of course!" Robotnik said and spun on the chair, as happy as a monkey with a bottle of stolen rum. "You owe me for the help," said the conniving lunatic once the movement had stopped.

Shadow felt stumped. There he was, talking to the biggest loser next to Sonic he had met in the entire lifetime, following etiquette and not throwing the lard-encrusted bozo out. He was experiencing difficulty with gathering enough bravery for such a deed. It could have been badly prepared breakfast or paranoia, a fear of being watched. The rodent had finally moved forward and sat down on a chair near the desk, remembering the "date" with O'Really.

Shadow sighed to gather his thoughts, "Doctor, I am a very busy man-"

"So am I," interrupted the unhealthy eater.

"So why don't you stop interrupting me-" the headmaster tried his best in speaking for the nth time.

The scientist knew exactly what to add, "And get down to business."

Sonic's rival placed his clasped hands on the desk, "Correct. How may I assist a criminal of your size here?"

"Criminal? No, no, no! I prefer the term "scientist"," claimed the villain while making a "no more food" motion with his palms. "Since I come here as a source of-"

It was time for revenge.

"Chaos?" interrupted the hedgehog in a "you poke me, I poke you" fashion.

Robotnik was still feeling comfort in those conditions, "Knowledge, Shadow. In fact…" he said and reached for a red briefcase placed near the black chair.

He opened the case and took out quite a few documents, placing them on the tabletop for the principal to see. Diplomas, certificates, awards, science fair medals and other documents were set. "First Place", "Patent", "Third Place", "Third Place", "Scientist of the Year", "Second Place", "Patent" – headings chattered loudly. The main executioner could not help his discomfort growing. Dominated by a fool recognized by the majority, the common scientific filth – even the thought was gross. Though, he was not going to admit defeat…easily.

"That _looks_ fine and well, but you're still a crimi-"

"No," negated the man and pulled out the heavy artillery, police-related biographies. "I am under law... My record _is_ "fine and well", like other papers."

Shadow read the black-on-white evidence, unable to believe the dreadful "No criminal activity" signs within each sheet.

"We're sinners. But if you become principal to clear your name, I take your guidance to ease my future," Eggman explained. Afterwards, he looked at Shadow's cabinet, "I checked the portfolios there. Nothing special and _nothing_ I'm not _better_ than."

Shadow looked at his clock with a bored look on his muzzle, "What do you want?" the hedgehog asked, grimacing like a medicine-hating kindergartener after the wasted minutes were put into consideration.

"Any position you have to offer me" was the outside answer, attributed with manic laughter inside, hidden from the rodent.

The principal was not surprised, nor was he satisfied. It was a moment for a short nap, "a time to think" in his terms.

Five minutes had passed without satisfaction coming from any of the interested parties. The doctor was not as fast to please as he had claimed. A compromise demanded at least thirty minutes more for birth.

Time would have allowed such a waste if it weren't for more company.

Three knocks, no warm "Come in!", and the door opened again. This time it was a male gray-furred small-spotted genet dressed in a strikingly turquoise business suit. A cheerful smile furnished his face like a bouquet of flowers that Shadow loathed that much..

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" asked the genet, swinging his tail a bit.

A look at Robotnik's face was informative enough. So were his grin and posture. The creature approached the paper-covered table, ignoring Shadow as if on purpose and asked, looking at Robotnik with a question in his eyes: "Who is the principal here?"

Robotnik shook his fat head slightly and violently, obliging his cheeks to wiggle, and looked at Shadow in silence.

The genet smiled and poked his head out in front of the hedgehog, his fuzzy striped tail stuck up a little.

"Are _you_ the princy-pal?" he asked in an odd, overly friendly tone that disturbed the chief.

Indeed it was an awkward day for Shadow…and it had only begun.


	3. Inspection Time!

Chapter 3: Inspection Time!

Shadow glimpsed at the blue-suited inferior, his handheld briefcase, then at Eggman. In his imagination, he was trying to figure out, which one had less hostile talents and, thus, was easier to handle that early in the morning. He knew Robotnik's limits, therefore, as terrible as that was, the hedgehog decided to settle business with the scientist first.

"Yes, I am," Shadow flustered coldly, eyeing the newcomer. "And who might you be?" he added with horrible thoughts in mind.

"Saul Sendlor, healthcare department," the ringtail introduced himself, while scanning the office visually, an identification card stuffed at the hedgehog's nose.

Shadow's working place appeared to be a long room with a laminated desk in one end, behind which were his leather chair and a large window with blinds. Half of the space between the walls and the principal's (now Eggman's) chair was taken by a filing cabinet. In front of the desk was a wooden seat, occupied by the inspector at the time. At one side, a soft-surfaced bench-like contraption was set, with the hedgehog's rump on top. On the other side was a wardrobe.

Moving closer to the entrance, one could find a desk with a computer bolted into the wood for safety along with various gadgets like a copier, printer and scanner. A big metal wardrobe opposite the desk.

"What does education have to do with health?" the principal asked, confused, staring at the inspector, demanding eye contact.

"I was acquired by the committee studying your case with Mr. O'Really in charge to watch your progress," Sendlor explained, developing an odd smile and took a seat next to the troublesome principal, the case placed on his knees, his eyes stuck on Eggman's moustache.

The director had more than one reason to swear, scream, kick, kill and whine. The government and an insane doctor that should have been playing "patient" in an asylum were in one room with him.

Inspection gave Shadow a glimpse before "inquiring" further: "That and I was also promised an office close to yours and ten academic hours of drama per week."

"Drama? I'm afraid we don't do theater in school, sir."

"Now you do. Signed, approved," announced the genet.

It was obvious that the pushy "law and disorder" had more than one technique to leave Robotnik in the shade. Shadow was forced to continue dialogue with the stranger, still doing his best to receive the initiative.

"Erm... I cannot go against such legislation. But the doctor here..." the hedgehog mumbled aloud.

"The doctor, here," interrupted the government, nodding in Ivo's direction, "is a perfect example of what your staff could use."

The "perfect example" grinned eggmanishly. It was truly not a good day to finish a sentence.

"But he is a…" Shadow said, trying to talk slowly, hoping it would stop the ill-timed replies.

"Politically correct person unlike one of your current math teachers, whose father was a fascist's uncle. Yes, we run background checks," ranted the smug feline look-alike.

"No comment," commented Shadow, irritation silenced in his imagination.

"Mr. O'Really recommends you to acquire him the position of-" Sendlor carried on, ignoring Shadow's icy gaze.

Meanwhile, Robotnik tried to assume the outcome of such casual "peace" talks. His eyes, hidden behind a pair of dark glasses, were darting from one anthropomorpha to the other before the director decided on the debate being over.

"I am the principal here!" Shadow barked, getting up from his seat and taking place in front of the inspector. "Not O'Really, and definitely not you…ma'am," he scoffed softly.

The genet looked away for a moment and pointed his gaze at the delinquent, having composure at hand, "Do you like your mother, Mr. principal?" responded the ignorant viverrid.

The remark seemed effective. The director's rage was taken to a halt for a moment. Even Eggman managed to see a blank cartridge instead of the ever-present "ultimate" smirk.

"How does that relate to the issue?" asked a disturbed rodent, having finally processed the verbal data.

Without thinking a considerable amount of time the dramatic creature responded with a delirious: "Every subject concerns health, Mr. Hedgehog."

"Especially my mother?" the chief pricked back.

Saul tapped his fingers on the briefcase, "Especially accommodations proposed by the committee," a spanned listener acknowledged, looking up naively at the irritated anthropoid.

Various interesting sounds could have been heard coming from inside the room. The fact of things not going smoothly would have been obvious to any attentive passerby.

"Proposed!"

"Promised."

"I am the director."

"Are you not under the health department's rule?"

"I obey no one…"

"Compromise?"

"No."

"But!"

"Can I have my job now?"

Attention guessed that it was late, but it recalled _him_ never mentioning the time its job started at. Approaching the principal's cabinet, various thoughts roamed in the inconvenience's head. Money was money, suckers always had money. _He_ was a sucker.

A knock on the door.

No response.

The passerby, who happened to be a mere female bat, decided to enter. With a turn of the handle, the door swooped open, freezing the three males' expressions for a moment.

Eggman – yawning impolitely, presumably, reading an issue of "Volks.Wagon", which was dying of urea set so close to the steaming figure.

Shadow – mouth open wide, apparently, pronouncing something heavy to digest.

"The cat thing" – staring at the bat, confused about her absence of proper formalwear.

Suddenly, the situation dissipated. Eggman smirked at the devious white bat. Shadow looked up, thinking about a proper greeting card. "The cat thing" looked away, assuming he would hear more things that way.

"Rouge the Bat, reporting for duty, chief," she smiled, gulping their bafflement with her eyes.

The main executioner frowned, "Oh, right… I didn't tell you the timetables," he said, having nothing to add.

Utilizing the previous statement, Rouge approached the trio, "What's Eggman doing here?"

The man-shaped genius looked up from the "amazing" piece of "literature" just to make a quick: "I am applying for a job. What about yourself?" and then return to the "pretty pictures".

Ignored by the inquirer, the female tried presenting herself intellectually in verbal motions: "The "ultimate life form" has to have a fine secretary, you know."

Robotnik never saw her "seductively wise" gestures, accompanying the words. The bat was a failure in smarts by his standards. An IQ of 300 sharp was above everyone, pride climbing up.

Suddenly, the lissome stranger decided to end the drama, leaving discontent in the scene.

"If I may interject," decapitated the government.

Shadow smiled venomously, "Yes."

Pause, the "-s" stuck in motion.

"…_you_ can," he then blurted out, vitriol all over.

Cunning, witty or permanently "mental", a genet heard the words as straightforward, no "Warning!" labels attached, "If the documents didn't fail me, you already have a secretary."

Finally, composure regained, irritation ejected to the ground in the form of electrostatic waves, metaphorically pummeling Mother Nature back to the state of primordial bouillon. It was a mere attempt of calming down oneself at an expense of countless deaths. The headmaster then spoke an unimaginable utterance: "I fired her after I saw _her_ in action."

Casually, as if nothing had been fizzing all around angrily, health took out a notepad and flipped a few pages, trying to read the scribbles inserted there.

"She's been working here for ten years," concluded the scribbler.

The direction team of one felt like smacking down a few heads thanks to the mentioned fact, but refrained from doing so. Playing along seemed wise, as well as using a soothing tone: funeral march style.

"Exactly! She couldn't take it any more under new management," experienced the listeners.

Shadow swore under his headache, being unable to bite a lip in capital stress. Obviously, his incredibly masculine intuition predicted the upcoming endnotes.

Blue-suited officials, one unit in total, hid the notepad and looked at the "teachful" employees, tapping the briefcase timidly. Surely, the awkward scene, and a disturbing "Volks.Wagon's" reader showed on Saul's face. A wristwatch saved him from some silent chaos in the hedgehog's lair.

"So…can I have a few things signed and be on my way? I have a busy schedule," looking at the clock dial, the friendly stranger irked off.

It sounded like music for the principal's ears. Immediately, after colliding with the eardrums, Shadow, brightened up to the usual extent, responded.

"Sure, you can! Espio!" he bellowed cheerfully, having found the assistant lurking around stealthily.

Espio the Chameleon became visible, taking residence between Sendlor and Hedgehog. A martial arts salute followed, as mocking and clumsy as it always was.

"Yeas!" the reptile exclaimed.

Frowning, the director managed to make orders, "Make sure Mr. Sendlor gets everything he should. Don't forget to lead this…government official out as soon as possible."

Silence. The "ultimate life form" needed a fake, but sane reason.

"He has a schedule, you know," sounded his justification.

"Yeas!" agreed the employee before marching to the door and mimicking the viverrid to follow.

The door was closed. Three subjects left: a bat, a rodent and a man-like thing. Such a moment was taken into consideration. Shadow was a good pupil, good enough to mentally find a solution for turning the trio into a duet. A wall. In-between. Perfect! Noted. Memorized. Inaudible snicker.

Interruption: Robotnik grunted, looking at Shadow with those ever-hidden eyes. It was a good reminder and reality check. Business was still at front, Rouge in the back. The bat, in her turn, presumably bored, started clicking random buttons at the computer desk near the entrance. Feminine duties had thrown her attention span away, Shadow deducted. He was safe to speak to the maniac, finally.

"Doctor, I'm tired of your company and that magazine," the headmaster started.

Eggman was not impressed. He had his mouth open to say something at one point, but decided to let the insectivore resume on its own. A grin raised the moustache, as painful as that was for the aesthetic life form.

"Why don't you…ugh! Take off those glasses?"

Realizing that he had said something completely off-topic, Shadow cursed again and waited for a reaction. It never came. The inquisitor's mighty IQ decided to spare the animal. Help came from the unexpected and ignored individual.

"Give him some IT, Shadow. He can't mess up there… I think," Rouge mumbled, loud enough to be recognized.

"Information technology," said Eggman redundantly, no emotion acquired on the outside.

Shadow approached the desk and rested his fingertips on the surface. The riddles had been defeated, at long last.

"Come to my office in two weeks…same time. I'll get your papers ready by then," directorship relinquished defeat.

Eggman had no other choice. It gathered the unnecessary diplomas littering the "ultimate" desk taking in extra time due to all sizes below his. Obediently, the obese technician left only the necessities for documentation within the boundaries of the working spot and paraded to the door.

Act one, scene three: the farewell card. Ivo had not forgotten to remind them of his presence.

"I'll be sure to…." the doctor started, lost in a gimmick for words for the very first time in his life. "I'll be sure to not let you forget about _me_!" he exclaimed mouthfully and did a classic escape route through the door.

The headmaster frowned at the disturbing line and sighed painfully, glaring at the connection between the wall and ceiling, "Rouge…we need to talk."

Special agent Rouge looked up at her employer with a fake smile, mischief filling her mouth.

Meanwhile, the outside world had already managed to get into all sorts of problems, most being attached to two disconnected hedgehogs: Amy Rose and her dishonestly present boyfriend, in the flesh.

At that time, the tired, jogging-happy pinkness, wearing an unusual, aerodynamic set of clothes, was exploiting her last ounces of energy. Such a dastardly deed could have been caused only by yet another amusing runaround, trying to catch her love and passion.

Speaking of passion, it was two seconds away from Miss Rose, the unfortunate. The distance, however, had not intended to shorten in the first place. A blue blur soon outguided Amy's lust for mutual love at amazing two-hundred-plus miles per hour. Faster than the female's legs, the turquoise smudge vanished behind the school building.

Then, an ear-splitting shriek shook the governmental construction and, foremost, its inhabitants: Amy had exhaled a tremendous "Sonic!", letting the vowels continue for more than ten seconds. Regarding the fact that she was within the school campus, it was easy to deduct that Shadow and Rouge had a very "pleasant" conversation issue.

Amy, after seeing that the azure bouncer had left her no hope to catch it that day, stormed off, away from the school parking lot, angrily clicking buttons of her old-fashioned brick-phone. Fortunately for society, the apparatus was dead as a dodo.

More trashed environmentalists: the phone article lay on the pavement. Metal, plastic and batteries, smashed into the ground with lovely pink rage, counting down for two hundred years until full erosion.

Shadow, whose office had all windows directed at the parking lot, was witnessing her discontent. For reasons known only to him at the time, a shudder came down the bio-engineered spine. The headmaster would have thought of his corrupting plans and duties with the disgustingly pink leviathan gone.

It was never meant to be: the door slammed open.

Espio entered.

"Yeas!"


	4. Big Adventures

Chapter 4: Big Adventures

There was no time left to waste. Periods were due and Shadow was still not ready. His plan required more than usual wit and imagination. It needed something that the ultimate one lacked.

The scheme had to have a feminine side.

With professionalism breathing down his neck and paperwork piling up in each drawer at school, there was only an hour time window for achieving the impossible.

And it was well over "not enough" with the essential ingredient dressing, re-dressing and over-undressing in its apartment. Shadow could have never understood the delicacy and reasons behind such heinous tradition. However, he did not have to repeat himself much. A shiny green gem "borrowed" from the Station Square Museum, siphoning the factor's attention, had the dirty work done for him, once every few minutes.

It was not common for a dark hedgehog to sneak into museums between guard shifts and steal precious Chaos Emeralds. Furthermore, it was very uncommon for any hedgehog to visit seductive white bats and not remove their shoes during the whole stay. Shadow ignored the begging and trades that Rouge showered and smothered him with while "multitasking" between the right clothing articles. Ignorance for a shield and a glistering emerald, constantly moving in his palm to position her attention at the right spot, were lifesavers.

Letting the young (crone-to-be) flying mammal as much as touch it was risky enough. Her mesmerized stare and caring strokes given for the little green paradise could have reminded only a pair of lovers, struck by passion. Lust for whatever meaningless object was what kept her heart pumping, he thought.

Immediately, he took it away from the grubby little female and prepared for Chaos Control. It was past his annoyance hours. Being held behind schedule by an obsessive gem stroker was not normal at all.

A flash and the two were no more in the apartment. The fact that it was improbable to exist in two places at once weighed painfully on Shadow's shoulders. Without other choices given, he was still stuck with Rouge. At the time, his torture was transported to Angel Island, a floating piece of earth hanging above the ocean.

Urban territories, although ridiculously irrational, were kind of cozy, compared to the wild jungle inhabited by only one moronic creature, the last of his kind, too. An insane knuckleheaded echidna, with a fortunate name of Knuckles, obviously, indicating the lack of brain power, but compensated by whatever strength available, resided there.

Knuckles, as guardian of the legendary Master Emerald, was forced and delighted to forever inhabit the mid-aired rock. The Master Emerald, in its turn, was a really big piece of jewelry that would have looked perfectly in bracelet form on Rouge's wrist, in her opinion. His nutty company consisted of a bipolarity syndrome sufferer and a puddle of water in one, Chaos, and some spooky dreadlocked female with the shortest skirt available on the market in those days, Tikal.

Nothing would have been a problem and company might have been prevented if it were not for Shadow's loyal shoes. The engine-powered hover skates, sneakers even, were far too loud to not wake up the alert echidna doofus. Combined with the Master Emerald's abilities of disrupting the power of the Chaos Emeralds, particularly around the shrine, it would have been suicide for every red-streaked black rodent to try and capture the powerful islanded gem.

Since he was unable to teleport straight to the old rocky emerald sanctuary and walking was out of subject, airmail seemed appropriate.

Rouge, being a jewel thief, had boundaries in physical strength and stood no chance in delivering the priceless rock off the island. Even getting to its location without a jet or helicopter was a fussy deal with wing strains and sweat.

Thus, letting the bat do the lifting and the hedgehog, trying to utilize a teleportation sequence right, appeared to be the perfect plan.

Simple as that, the bat flew towards her glistering goal, past a red echidna, always asleep after eight o'clock in the evening, and took it out of the designated hole in the ground. A trip back, a few huffs and puffs about the load, compensated by the amazing feeling of being able to hold the magic pebble, and the two had their mission complete.

However, since Shadow had never bothered to tell her anything that would have come after the theft, Rouge was extremely disappointed with the realization that she had been used.

Glaring viciously at her superior-in-office, she decided to let it go just once. What would the bum do with something as big as her closet without getting extra attention? Naturally, she would end up being the one to hold the precious thing, the scheming female concluded.

Leave they did, along with the treasure.

It was not long until Knuckles noticed a sinking feeling in his stomach. The silly monotreme was amused neither by the emerald's absence nor by the fact that his island was falling down into the sea, as the priceless object, keeping it afloat, had vanished.

Confusion took hold. Who could have been so cunning as to pass his tender hearing? Nobody could answer that question, having no clues provided.

However, hotheaded fools never needed a clear answer or facts to act.

Exclamations – all the way, the echidna swore in the most ancient dialect known to history and, trusting his emerald seeker sense, began trotting forward to return the stone… Wherever it was…

* * *

Despite popular demand, Shadow pulled through another week of formalities and paperwork. He could have lived on more, but some things were just keeping him too far from life, Big things, to be precise.

Having those mentioned, a purple ball-shaped feline, Big the Cat, found himself mindlessly looking for his pet and only friend, Froggy, yet again. The supposedly unmistakable trace of the amphibian led him straight into an old pond a few hundred feet away from the school grounds.

"Uhhh," acknowledged the one cat platoon, glancing at the white structure absentmindedly.

And he kept staring for ten minutes. Blinking from time to time, trying to buy the luxury of an idea. He was denied a loan in the brain bank so he did enter the building and barge into the closest room available. Being guided by a nose, the fat creature sniffed out the only recognizable scent available.

Unfortunately, it was the headmaster's.

To the second floor, straight by the tiled floor, at the door knob, no knocking. The door swished open and Big bounced in, tripping over the doorsill, left in the path of his right foot by mean, mean builder people. Rouge woke up from her browsing trance within the laptop's influence and looked at the fallen miracle of nature.

Nope, it was still alive. The bat did not have to bother to move away from her desk. She just waited for the enormous pile of wiggly tissue to begin communication sequences by itself.

Big stood up, agreed with himself audibly using an "uhhh" and rushed forward to a door in a plasterboard wall, separating the space in the office between Shadow and Rouge. The secretary guided him along with her eyes, gulping from time to time, as clumsy feet enabled the hillbilly to trip over and just barely make it to knock down every single piece of working machinery in the office, including the plaster wall panel.

Content was the female. The large bundle of joy entered Shadow's part of the room.

The door closed.

Rouge twiddled her way over to the wall and listened attentively to the tirade taking place behind it. It seemed to be rather serene there: a certain spiteful monotone was constantly bouncing off the feline's eardrums with an "uhhh" for effect once in a while. That was her cue. Shadow was busy. Nothing could stop her. Yes! The treasure was close, so close she could taste it, she believed.

Big's idle attitude would have been kind enough to keep the boss occupied long enough, but before the female could have gotten out of the office or turn around, something felt wrong.

And it was not "just" something. It was something horrible. Her hair, her beautiful hair seemed heavy…as if wet. A hand was raised to check. Indeed. Tapping on the moist surface showed that it was not water. It was some sort of goo. Disgusting, vile, besmirched! Messing up hairdos is less legal than marijuana, speaking feminine standards, in particular.

It was not the end. That was not even the beginning.

In-between her short-timed rant about ugliness and a trip to the mirror, a sound, and not just any sound, the most repulsive little utterance a person could hear.

Something croaked. The exact something, which had somehow gotten on top of her head while she was listening in, croaked.

Naturally, it was a disorientation. The bat tumbled over, fell, tripped, stood up and ended up crawling, knocking down a jar of paperclips and holding onto her dear head for mercy. But _it_ wasn't there anymore. Her ugly found itself resting on her belly. It looked into the female's frightened eyes with sheer confusion.

It scared the lipstick off of her.

The female shrieked in terror. It was an awful experience, indeed. The little concentration of disgust hopped off, displeased by her voice chords and leaped onto the office desk.

Again, she had found it trying to stare her down. A foul, croaking, slime-carrying dark green frog was looking into her beautiful unadulterated eyes.

Her screams had hit the right spot as Shadow rushed out from behind the wallboard. The scene that awaited him was odd and, not to mention, silly: a practically grown woman was rammed into a chair, sitting on the floor, while a frog, located dangerously close to her computer, covered in reddish half-done jelly, was trying to get the substance off its body. The frog's tongue motions looked quite threatening to some, but a certain member of the trio had no difficulty in accepting that presence.

Big dropped out of the principal's office, exclaiming a cheerful: "Froggy!" Then, he hugged the sticky critter and happiness was drawn all over his face, as well as raspberry jelly.

Shadow frowned gently and, with kindness in his heart, removed the pesky duo from his sight.

As for the bat, she still lay on the floor, with the headmaster's scowl on her hair and the grounded paperclips.

Yet another day in the misfortunate streak.

Blue heroes from all around the world would have agreed on that, bearing in mind that a certain azure Hercules was being apprehended by pink cuddly love bites at the very moment. Snuggles, wuggles, huggles, terror and murder – all for him.

Sweet sounds of an approaching school year echoed in the rosy atmosphere.

"Argh!"


End file.
